


From Fancy to Truth

by EdosianOrchids901



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mutual Pining, Romantic Fluff, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-09 07:46:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17402885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EdosianOrchids901/pseuds/EdosianOrchids901
Summary: Garak and Bashir visit Bajor for a conference. Unfortunately, the hotel lost Bashir's reservation.





	From Fancy to Truth

On previous trips, Garak found Bajor tolerable. Perhaps the sun shined a bit too bright, but he’d enjoyed the luscious vegetation and occasional warm breeze.

This time, on the other hand, the landing site immediately assaulted him with biting wind and an icy drizzle that set his teeth on edge. Rivulets of water traveled down the flat scales of his neck and followed the curve of his spine. So much for his illusions of days spent basking in the fresh air. This downpour eliminated any chance of leisurely outdoor walks.

“That’s a bit brisk, isn’t it?” Dr. Bashir hopped out of the runabout, luggage slung over his shoulder. “Do you think it rains here often? Not quite the place I’d have picked for a conference.”

“Nor I.” Garak hefted his own bag higher and dashed for the covered walkway. The shelter wasn’t much of an improvement—high gusts of wind caught the downpour and drove rain into his face. He gave a sharp, irritated sigh and raised a hand to shield his eyes, at least.

Bashir skidded to a halt under the cover, somehow managing not to slip. He shook his head and then his entire body like a hound who’d just taken a swim. “Brrr. That’s more than brisk.”

“I’m afraid I must concur with that assessment, Doctor.” Garak’s teeth chattered. With a long breath, he forced himself to release the tension in his neck and shoulders. He’d give himself another headache if he wasn’t careful. “Shall we get out of this dreadful environment?”

“Probably, yes.”

Water wound between slate grey stepping stones and poured off into the neighboring garden beds. The sight of greenery filled Garak with a wistful joy. Oh, how he missed growing orchids on Cardassia.

Although regret tugged at his heart, he tore his attention away from the gardens. Other conference attendees milled around on the path ahead. Apparently, none of them minded the hypothermia-inducing rain, or that they had to shout to hear each other over the raging storm.

“This is more people than I was expecting.” Dr. Bashir ran a hand through his hair, and water droplets splattered across Garak’s face.

Garak yelped. “Doctor, I’m quite wet enough without your help.”

“Oh god, I’m sorry. Here, let me get that,” Bashir said.

Warm fingers brushed across Garak’s cheek. For a moment, he accepted the contact, the closeness. A welcome antidote to the weather—and to loneliness.  

And then alarms went off in his head, and he waved a dismissive hand. Sentiment once again, his eternal bane. “Nonsense, I’m perfectly all right. Don’t trouble yourself.”

Bashir frowned, cocking his head. “Okay, if you’re sure.”

“We ought to get inside.” Garak cut through the crowd. This trip was not off to an encouraging start, and he cursed himself again for his lack of emotional control.

 He’d been trapped in Bashir’s orbit since his first glimpse of the doctor years ago. Of course, he’d easily justified his interest. Bashir was an ideal contact, after all. Young, impressionable, naïve, idealistic.

That was all true. And yet, also a lie. Bashir was indeed an ideal contact. But no matter Garak’s excuses, that scarcely factored into why he had pursued the doctor’s friendship.  

And now they were together on Bajor without any of the usual distractions. Granted, the conference promised to be rather eventful. Dr. Bashir was scheduled to give several lectures, and the Bajoran government had cajoled Garak into attending panels to highlight the Bajorans’ supposed peaceful intentions towards Cardassia. So, it wasn’t as though he and the doctor would be idle, or even spend much time together. Still… _Careful, Elim. You know your weaknesses._

 

*******

 

“What do you mean, you don’t have my reservation?” Incredulity seeped into Bashir’s voice, as if he’d never heard of a technological failure before. “You _have_ to have my reservation.”

Garak rolled his eyes. It seemed his maxim of _hope for the best, expect the worst_ leaned heavily on the _expect the worst_ side of things today.

“No reservation under Julian Bashir,” the desk clerk repeated.

“But…” Bashir screwed up his face, eyes going distant. Garak tilted his head and watched. The young doctor did have such an expressive face, particularly when baffled. “No, I’m sure I made a reservation.”

With a sigh, Garak combed fingers through his hair in an attempt to dislodge the lingering rain. Water clung to his locks, dripping down onto his exposed neck ridges at random intervals. It seemed this hadn’t been the wisest outfit choice. He resolved to find something warmer—and dry—as soon as possible.

Bashir, having made no headway with the clerk, turned to Garak. His eyes went big and pleading, once again reminiscent of a hound puppy. “Garak, I hate to ask this, but…”

_No. No, absolutely not._

Garak realized at once that he’d failed to mask his horror. Bashir’s expression fell, his shoulders slumping. Now he looked like a hound puppy who’d lost his favorite toy.

“Ah.” Garak licked his lips and turned to the clerk. “I take it there’s no other rooms available?”

The clerk’s expression conveyed that she regretted not misplacing Garak’s reservation rather than Bashir’s. She was Bajoran, after all. He could hardly blame her for being unhappy about the Cardassian in her lobby. “No other rooms.”

“Dammit.” Julian—no, _Bashir_ , Garak corrected himself forcefully—paced a few steps away. He whirled back around and smacked himself in the forehead. “I know what happened. I was in the middle of making my reservation when my console shorted out. I suppose the request didn’t submit.”

“Mm, that does explain things.” Garak exhaled. “Well, nothing else to do. You may stay with me, Doctor.”

Bashir’s eyes brightened. And then anxiety drew his brows together. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, quite. We’ll have a—what did Jake Sisko call it? A slumber party.”

A grin spread across Bashir’s face. “Thanks! That’s really great of you.”

“Well, one must take good care of one’s friends.” _Friends. That’s all._ Garak returned the smile and set off for the lift. Everything would be fine. They could manage a few nights of sharing a room without incident.

As the lift doors closed, Bashir leaned over and whispered, “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you short-circuited my console on purpose.”

Garak’s heart jumped into his throat. For an instant, the lift seemed to be closing in. _Focus, Elim_. “Why, my dear Doctor,” he said, pressing his hand to his chest in apparent mock-surprise. “What a scandalous suggestion!”

Bashir laughed, and Garak’s anxiety faded. Yes, this would be perfectly fine. They’d spent plenty of time together alone, after all. Not alone in a hotel, perhaps, but still. It wasn’t as though this was all that much different from—

The door to his room slid open, and he froze. He blinked as he looked around, then shook his head. Of course.

A warm body collided with his back, which did very little to lessen his concern over the entire situation. “Garak? Is something the matter?” Bashir asked.

Garak drew a bracing breath. He swept one arm wide as he stepped into the room. “Welcome to my lair! There’s only one bed.”

Bashir burst into laughter again. “Of course, there’s only one bed.”

Of course. Garak set his bag on the floor, then searched for listening devices. He found a badly-concealed one on the windowsill. Once he’d disposed of the bug, he took a closer look at the room. The décor wasn’t nearly as horrid as he’d expected, although everything was roughly the same drab shade of orange.

Even criticizing color choices failed to distract him from the single bed in the center of the room. His hands trembled, either from cold or panic. Going to a conference with Bashir was fine. Staying in the same hotel was fine. Even sharing a room was fine. But he drew the line at sleeping in the same bed.

“Well!” He made a show of poking and prodding the mattress, his expression theatrically dark with disapproval. “This bed is far too soft for a Cardassian anyway. You know those Bajorans and their odd notions of comfort. I’ll be perfectly fine sleeping on the floor.”

“You can’t be serious.” Deep lines carved into Bashir’s forehead, and he threw his hands up. “Garak, I’m not gonna steal your bed. Not after you were kind enough to let me stay with you.”

“Nonsense, Doctor. You’re hardly stealing it. I’m giving it to you freely.” Garak flashed a bright smile at his companion, then collected the extra blankets and a pillow.

“But you’re drenched and half-frozen! The floor’s not gonna be warm enough for you.”

“I’ll be quite all right. You take the bed. After all, it’s bad manners to refuse a gift from your host.” Garak shook out one of the fluffy orange blankets and spread it on the floor. This would do. He’d slept in much worse conditions, after all.

Bashir’s hand intercepted his own. An electric shock tore through Garak, suffusing him with warmth. He looked up into concerned eyes, and then his gaze drifted down to Julian’s tempting lips.

“You’re cold,” Julian murmured. “You need the bed. I’ll be fine.”

Oh dear. Garak forced himself to make eye contact. It seemed he’d underestimated the doctor yet again.

“I won’t hear another word about it.” Garak gave his best customer service smile and withdrew. His hand slipped away from Julian’s warmth. He regretted the loss, but it was for the best. Just being in the same room was temptation enough. Standing that close and holding hands made it far too easy to contemplate leaning in just a bit to find out what those lips tasted like.

Something that might have been disappointment flickered in Julian’s eyes. His smile faded, and he stepped back. “Have it your way, then.

 

*******

 

The floor proved to be not only uncomfortable, but as cold as Julian—dammit, _Bashir_ —had predicted. Garak huffed. Not only was he miserable, he couldn’t seem to keep his mind in order. It kept rearranging his borders without permission, extending a hand across the walls of intimacy and drawing Julian into his keep. This was intolerable.

Longing for connection—a lifelong weakness. And to make matters worse, he knew the cold somewhat muddled his thinking. He was hardly impaired, but it did complicate his attempt to reinforce mental discipline.

The relative warmth of the hotel room, a hot shower, and dry clothes had done little to remedy the effects of freezing rain. The cold seeped into his scales, his muscles, making its way down into his bones. His shivers transformed into full-on tremors.

He curled tighter under the blankets. The fabric balled in his fists was a decent quality. A bit bulky for his taste, but it had a nice weave beneath all that ridiculous fluff.

“Garak?” A hand landed on his shoulder, and he startled.

“Is something wrong?” His voice came out far weaker than expected, and he frowned.

“Something is wrong, yeah. With you.” Julian— _Bashir—_ drew the blanket back and pressed his palm to Garak’s cheek. The warmth practically burned. Well, that meant unfortunate things about Garak’s own body temperature.

“I’m quite all right.” He didn’t dare move away, though. Now that the initial shock of the heat passed, he only wanted more warmth.

“You’re pretty much the opposite of all right. Get up.” Julian grasped his arms and tugged. “I mean it, Garak. Get up.”

Garak groaned and struggled into a seated position. Freezing air assailed his side, and his tremors worsened. “Doctor, I’m not joining you in bed.”

Julian crouched down. He gripped Garak’s hands as he made eye contact, and Garak found himself breathless. Not only was Julian’s skin warm, his eyes burned with a fiery intensity. “You listen to me, Garak,” he said. “You are going to get to your feet. You’re going to join me in bed. I’m not asking you, I’m telling you. Doctor’s orders.”

My, he _was_ magnificent. Garak stared at him, unsure how to reply. He wanted nothing more than to huddle chest to chest with Julian, to feel his heartbeat, to meld their lips. And yet… sentiment. Affection. Love. Things he was better off without.

And then Julian tore away all Garak’s defenses and barricades with a single word. “Elim.”

Garak’s mouth fell open. So, it seemed Julian had pieced together all those stories about “Elim” after all. The good doctor had never mentioned the topic after deactivating the implant. Garak’s natural assumption had been that the lies had passed, if not undetected, undeciphered.

Apparently, that wasn’t the case. Garak followed Julian to the bed without further complaint and found himself in exactly the position he’d desired. Chest to chest, face to face, hands joined. Now what to do? Decades of Obsidian Order training provided little assistance when confronted with genuine feelings.

Julian gave a tight, nervous smile. “Is this better?”

“It’s much better, thank you.” _Breathe, Elim. Just breathe_.

“I probably should have gotten you sooner.” Julian’s gaze averted for an instant, then returned. “I just… I didn’t want to push you away, you know?”

“I know.” Garak relaxed somewhat, no longer quite so lost. “You’re very good to me.” He hesitated, then pressed on. “I greatly appreciate your kindness… Julian.”

“I was half-wondering if you even knew my name,” Julian teased. He was practically bursting with nervous energy. “Wasn’t sure at first what you’d think about me calling you Elim. I just didn’t know what else to do. I had to get you off that floor, though. You were heading into hypothermia, and it’s not like I have full medical facilities here. I suppose I could have loaded you in the runabout and—”  

“My dear.” Garak touched a finger to those delightfully tempting lips, and the torrent of words ceased. “I wasn’t aware that you’d deduced the truth about Elim.”

Julian chuckled. “Actually, I asked Tain.”

“And he answered you truthfully?” Unexpected, and rather odd. Perhaps an attempt to drive a wedge between Garak and the far-too-honest doctor. That seemed a likely motive.

“I wasn’t actually sure until now. Calling you Elim…well, that was something of a gamble.”

A gamble that paid off well. Garak’s gaze drifted to Julian’s lips again. So close, and yet still he hesitated. His mental boundaries renegotiated. Sharing a bed was fine. A kiss would not be fine.

Julian swallowed and then bit his lip. Oh, that was unfortunate. It drew even more attention to how kissable he looked.

Garak became acutely aware of their nearness. Julian’s warmth emanated like the rocks in a sauna, driving away all remaining chill.

What harm would a kiss truly do? It wasn’t dangerous. At least, not in any traditional sense. Some kisses between unfortunate species caused an allergic reaction, but humans and Cardassians had no such issue.

It wasn’t as though kissing was much more intimate than laying pressed together like this. But it did mean a significant shift in boundaries, in what was considered acceptable. Worse, the probable ensuing shift in relationship status placed Julian in danger.

Garak sighed to himself. Endangering the good doctor violated every tenant Garak held. There were few things in life he considered important these days. Julian’s safety scored high on that list.

Julian’s brow crinkled, and the corners of his mouth tugged down. “Garak, is something wrong?”

“Not particularly, no. I’m simply contemplating the nature of our relationship.” The words slipped from him before he fully considered them. A significant misstep, likely an offensive one.

To his surprise, the doctor smiled. “I thought as much. I’m doing the same thing, more or less.”

“I don’t believe becoming more intimate would be wise.” It galled him to speak in such plain terms, but the alternative would only prolong discomfort. And deflection, his oldest ally, no longer presented an option.

“Did I ever say I was wise?”

“That was never my impression, no.” The game came to him easily. “You do tend to be rather reckless.”

“And you worry too much.” A warm hand cupped Garak’s cheek. “As your doctor, I think you ought to worry less.”

Garak gaped at him, at a loss for words. Hesitant, he covered the doctor’s hand with his own. “If you insist.”

The first brush of their lips together sent heat flowing through his core. The second stopped his breath. The third ripped away his careful control, and he curled his hand around the back of Julian’s neck to draw him closer.

Oh, this was simply delightful. Julian’s hands wound in Garak’s hair. Bold, this one. His occasional lack of self-confidence didn’t extend to kissing, it seemed. He’d taken control quite nicely, and Garak was more than content to go along on the ride.

The uncertainty on Julian’s face when he drew back shattered the illusion of confidence. Ah well. The dear boy was still charming when at a loss. “Was that all right?” Julian asked.

Garak joined their hands, cold fingers twining with warm. “Significantly more than all right.”

Julian grinned. He pulled one hand away and flopped over on his back. “God, you’re an amazing kisser. I always thought you would be.”

Something akin to embarrassment warmed Garak’s scales. “Been contemplating that for a while, have we?”

“God, yes. Ever since you sat down at my Replimat table.”

Flattering indeed, and reciprocated. “That’s quite kind of you.”

Julian snorted. “As if you haven’t been thinking about it.”

Garak opted to ignore that. Instead, he burrowed deeper under the covers and nestled his head against Julian’s neck. The body heat nearly made him moan. That, however, would have been going too far.

Julian wrapped an arm around him. “You seem to be improving. Still up to the conference tomorrow?”

“Would I miss the opportunity to be surrounded by Bajorans who loathe me?” He snuggled closer, eyes drifting shut. This simple intimacy soothed him in a way he’d rarely experienced. Even the prospect of small talk with Bajoran diplomats didn’t unsettle him.

“You seem to like trouble, so I can’t imagine you missing that chance.” Lips brushed against Garak’s head, and he nearly gasped at his answering surge of emotion. It had been far too long since he’d been this close to someone he truly cared about.

And that brought up a point he’d rather not discuss. “On the topic of trouble, my dear, you must be careful.”

“Your enemies will come after me and all that?” A soft amusement colored Julian’s tone.

“It’s no laughing matter. If we continue down this path, it places you in considerable jeopardy.”

“Does it place me in considerable jeopardy of getting more kisses?” Julian pulled back just a tad and gazed down at Garak. “Because if it does, then I’m all in. No matter what else comes along.”

It would have been wiser to protest, to flee. Perhaps even to return to the station rather than risk spending the night together. But then, Garak had never been known for making the wisest of choices when it came to romance. And besides, Julian’s warmth provided considerable incentive to stay right here.

So, rather than fleeing, he closed the gap between them once again.


End file.
